


I need that sugar sweet

by sugarrushgay



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It
Genre: Harold - they're making out, M/M, totally platonic cuddle buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarrushgay/pseuds/sugarrushgay
Summary: Andrew's shower gel smells like orange and coconut and Steven has very bad impulse control





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Steven Lim i'm so sorry

Andrew had said it, back when they’d gone to try that espresso chocolate cake. He’d said “ _You would become very easily addicted to drugs_ ”. And he was right. Steven’s always been extremely susceptible to... everything. He can’t go halfway in whatever he does, always full force into all things, and he forms habits and obsessions in record time. He’s always done the most with everything, and this is no exception.

Steven has a bad habit, and it’s his own damn fault. It’s not like biting his hangnails off or putting too much sugar in his coffee – although he does those too. This one is different. Not just an unwise quirk, or a bad dietary choice. This time Steven can physically feel himself torn between rational thought and his colourful impulsive side every single time he makes the decision to crawl out of his hotel bed and into Andrew’s. Steven has a bad habit.

And Steven is _smart_. He’s perceptive and he has an eye for detail, and he knows what’s next, he can see the storm from here, the impact, like a full train cart slamming at high speeds into brick and stone. He knows he should stop himself now before it gets messy, before they return to California and he no longer has any excuse to show up at Andrew’s doorway, asking to sleep in his bed. He could do that, physically, but honestly? For some reason he’s not sure “ _I can’t sleep without the feeling of your warmth and your dumb shower gel scent all over my pillow_ ” is gonna go over nicely with Andrew.

It’s another one of those nights, and it’s cold outside and Steven knows it. He can picture the frosted paved streets and the artificial white lamplight in the October chill. He thinks it might snow. But in their hotel room, it’s warm. Really warm.

Logically, Steven is comfortable. He’s snug in his bed, the white hotel duvet soft and if this were any other circumstance, any other trip, any other hotel roommate, Steven would never even consider leaving the cosy nest he’s wrapped himself in. But just knowing that Andrew is there, he’s right there, so close, just a metre to his side – just knowing that it’s almost snowing and it’s perfect and his heart is heavy-footed in his chest – he can’t seem to sleep. All he can think about is Andrew’s arms, his stupid arms and his stupid grin and the way he hums absent-mindedly when he’s sleepy and Steven shakes him to ask “ _can I sleep here, with you?_ ”. Steven turns on his side, away from Andrew, not wanting to risk even looking at him before he does something stupid like blurt out that he’s in love with him or something. Which, he’s not. He really isn’t. Steven just. He just likes him, okay? Andrew’s just nice, and warm, and his voice trickles out of him like some kind of syrupy thing and Steven likes that, okay? He likes sweet things and Andrew’s sweet and his voice is sweet and the way his hair looks when it’s unstyled and he’s just gotten out of bed is the most beautiful thing in the whole fucking world and he feels a kind of tender satisfaction at being one of the very few people in Andrew’s life, presently, who gets to see that side of him. Who’s even allowed to. Steven smiles. And, _okay_ , he knows how this sounds, he knows. But Steven is _not_ in love with Andrew, because Andrew is straight, and Steven is...... something, and that would be ridiculous, frankly, so don’t ever mention it again.

And sometimes it’s like an out-of-body experience, being Steven, because he can see his mind spinning out his thoughts and then he sees his body do the complete opposite of what his thoughts are telling him to and it’s almost like he can’t stop it. Because he doesn’t want to. And to be fair, Steven would never even have thought to do this again if it weren’t for the fact that Andrew is the one booking their hotel rooms every time they travel for Worth It and Andrew always puts Steven and him in the same two-bed set-up, and that’s got to count for something, and he can’t even pin it on _Adam_ because he knows Adam is too cool with anything to have a rooming preference and Andrew _likes_ Adam and Adam’s low maintenance so it’s not even like _that_ , you know? And god, Steven’s run himself back into a wall with his thoughts and distracted his brain with rationalisations, again, so he didn’t even notice he slipped out of his bed and is walking over to Andrew’s. Dammit.

Andrew holds his breath, his eyes wide open in the dark room. There’s a soft blue-tinted light filtering in through the hotel windows facing the street, and Andrew briefly thinks it makes everything feel so much softer and more unreal. He can’t sleep, and he’s been hearing Steven toss and turn in his bed for a while now and he wonders if Steven can’t sleep either, and if it’s for the same reasons as him. Probably not, who’s he kidding. And Andrew has always been so much more concrete in his decisions, he knows what he wants and he makes up his mind fast, so it doesn’t even take that much time for him to turn around to face Steven’s bed.

“Can you come here?” the words are out of his mouth and he barely recognises his own voice, hoarse for hours of being unused; but Steven is already there, he’s already standing near his bed, and Andrew feels relief seeping into every fragment of him, like when you drink juice and your whole body tingles because of the vitamin intake, and he didn’t even know he was anxious or on-edge but he guesses he was, because that kind of relief only follows great distress. Andrew can’t even think about that because Steven is staring at him, almost disbelieving, and he licks his lips and looks away because Steven’s face is lit up in an almost unbelievably sky blue and Andrew just can’t handle that anymore.

Steven’s heart feels like it’s struggling to get out of his ribcage, and he’s almost certain he’s hallucinating.

“What?” it comes out in the faintest of whispers, and he’d be worried it might have sounded too harsh or unyielding given the situation but his voice was laced with the most mellow of aspirations that he knows even Andrew couldn’t misinterpret his confusion as disinterest. He just wants to make sure he heard correctly.

Andrew’s eyes are closed now and he smiles the kind of drowsy smile that makes Steven’s chest hurt and his tummy flip like a fucking pancake in its spot. He’s not in love.

“I think I’ve developed a taste for you sleeping in my bed the way you’ve developed a taste for truffle. This show has wrecked us both for regularity.” And wow, Andrew can’t believe his mind could even conjure these words right now, but he had and wow. Wow. Steven scoffs and he’s smiling and isn’t that how Steven should always be? His natural state, Andrew’s eyes crack open because he knows what follows that kind of scoff, that’s Steven’s _that’s-the-funniest-shit-I’ve-ever-heard-and-I-love-you_ scoff, and he can’t miss that smile no matter how many times he’s seen it, he just can’t. “Are you going to keep standing over my bed like some possessed kid from a horror movie or are you going to get in here, I promise it’s nice and toasty and I hear I give very good cuddles,” Andrew’s pushing it, but he can’t seem to stop.

Steven’s head tilts and he’s still smiling and the only word to describe his feeling now is fondness and he can’t believe this dumbass, stretched out on his bed like a cat, looking delicious and adorable and _Andrew_ all at once, how does he do it?

“Yes, you do. Give good cuddles. You... you heard correctly. I spread that rumour around-“ Steven can joke as well, and he’s already half in Andrew’s bed and Andrew’s arm is wrapping itself around his waist and wow this feels nice. “And don’t talk about horror movie children that shit is terrifying and I’m already having trouble sleeping as it is.”

“Don’t worry, my strong arms will keep you safe,” and Steven knows Andrew’s joking because his mouth is lilting that way of his but he still has to shut his eyes and purse his lips because that’s the hottest thing Andrew’s ever said to him, and _wait did he just think that?_ “What’s been keeping you up, Steven?” now Andrew’s voice is soft and it’s still raspy in that Andrew way and Steven is very close, they’re facing each other and Andrew’s hugging him close under the covers. Steven is not in love with Andrew.

“Nothing just. Thoughts.”

“Thoughts.” Andrew, damn him, looks way too amused for 3am while Steven is wrapped close to him having an identity crisis. “What thoughts?” and Andrew’s leg slips between Steven’s own and wraps around his calf, pulling him impossibly closer, and this is no longer platonic cuddle buddies territory, they couldn’t pretend it was if they tried.

“Oh- uh. You know, work and, stuff-“

“Steven.”

They’re looking at each other now, Andrew’s no-nonsense stare too intense and Steven’s eyes are stuck open wide because he knows he can’t back out of it now, he’s fucking got himself into this for good. “Steven, please. Before I do something incredibly stupid.”

“like what?” it comes out like a breath.

And it’s that split second where Andrew’s eyes flit to look at Steven’s lips before they’re back to his eyes that Steven realises he’s not the only one with a bad habit.They’re both whispering and they’re so close and it was already warm in the room but now it’s _hot_ and Steven wouldn’t believe it was mid-autumn if he didn’t know better.

Steven can’t breathe but also he’s breathing _too much_ and everything is so warm, searing where their bodies are joined. Andrew’s hands slide down his back and they’re both a mix of nervous and wonderfully comfortable for two seconds before Steven inches just barely closer and Andrew can’t take it, muttering “Fuck.” before he makes their lips meet. And wow, Andrew’s lips are so soft, and his hands are now on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the patch of skin where Steven’s shirt rode up, and Steven holds onto Andrew’s neck and pulls him closer. He’s smiling into the kiss and they break apart for a moment in which Andrew just mutters “Fuck,” again and Steven chuckles and says “I love incredibly stupid things,” and Andrew smiles and exhales and “Oh yeah?” Before kissing him again and rolling him over to climb on top and it’s so dumb and this should’ve happened ages ago and Steven is so glad Andrew smells like his shower gel.

Andrew pulls away again and Steven’s head lifts up to follow his lips without Steven meaning to and Andrew’s eyebrows go up while he smirks, Steven feels dumb in such a happy way, and he bites his lip and closes his eyes and Andrew is still giving him that _look_ so he goes “Shut up,” and Andrew is now breathing hotly on his neck and is starting to leave open mouthed kisses there and _fuck, that feels really nice_ , before he says. “Make me.”

Steven’s head is spinning because Andrew is so unfairly hot right now, and honestly always, and Steven growls and he didn’t even know he could make that noise before he bunches up Andrew’s shirt in his fingers and pulls him up to kiss him again. They’re both chuckling against each other’s lips and Andrew’s hands have found their way higher on Steven’s torso, cradling his sides, and his fingers dig into the skin there just a bit when Steven opens his mouth and breaths onto Andrew’s lips. Steven is going crazy but he’s driving Andrew there too, and Andrew doesn’t hesitate before his tongue swipes across Steven’s lower lip and Steven makes another noise he didn’t think he was capable of.

“You taste like toothpaste and lemon,” Andrew manages between kisses, and it’s hotter now because their kisses are with open mouth and they’re wet and Steven’s fingers are lightly combing through Andrew’s hair which is so soft, and Andrew’s beginning to pant.

“Pink lemonade, yeah” Steven mumbles, barely intelligible sounds lost in their kissing.

“Of fucking course, you child.” Steven can’t help but giggle and he feels so comfortable like this, under Andrew, which is such a strange thought but it’s also a ridiculous turn-on, that _wow he feels like home when he’s under Andrew what kind of romance novel bullshit,_ and Andrew’s nails dig into his ribs again and Steven’s back arches on instinct and Andrew pauses all his movements. “ _Oh_.”

 

Maybe he’s a little bit in love. Just a bit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be a oneshot but someone lovely suggested i write how they first ended up with their tradition of cuddling and?? uhm this happened?? i can't say im thrilled about the outcome but it's happened now and it's time to set it free into the world. they're gay as hell

The air in New York feels different on the street than it does on a hotel balcony. That’s the first of Steven’s thoughts as he stares into the multitude of lights, steaming mug of tea in hand. The hotel  overlooks a bright and bustling part of the city and Steven is sleepless and enchanted by the magic of it all, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, protecting him from the night chill. It’s silent save for the noise of the city, and Steven can almost hear his own thoughts for once.

The soft padding of socks on tile breaks the white noise of New York traffic and then Andrew is there, next to him, lowering himself on the floor with a sigh and a thud. Steven breathes a moment, staring out before turning to acknowledge him.

“You look like a... breakfast burrito,” Andrew says, looking over the city and not at Steven but smiling that half-smile of his that quirks up only one side of his lips. Steven finds himself more enchanted by Andrew’s special brand of smiling than he is by the skyscrapers and all their lights. _That scares him._ The way his heart warms, it fucking scares him. He looks into his tea mug for answers. His tea just limply reflects the light back at him.

“Good enough to eat?” Steven screws his eyes shut as soon as the words are out of him. Why the _fuck_ would he say that? His head is spinning. He feels Andrew’s eyes on him before he even dares look away from his drink, and the gaze is prolonged and heavy. Steven grins impishly, _he can play this off as a joke, it was totally funny – right_? Andrew looks him over like he’s something out of a pastry catalogue and Steven registers the way it makes him shiver even though it turns his body hot, hotter than he could blame the weather for. Steven clears his throat. “Don’t diss my _nest of warmth,_ Ilnyckyj, I like to protect myself from the cold,” he’s smiling widely, the way he always does, and is only now taking notice that Andrew is just wearing his very thin grey t-shirt that he sleeps in. He thinks of the wind that’s lapping at his face, looks at Andrew’s bare arms and shivers again. “Which – by the way, aren’t you _freaking_ cold?”

Steven looks at him with mild worry, and Andrew bites his lip and looks away, scrunching up his nose. He shrugs lightly but turns back to look at Steven, considering him for a few silent moments.

“Alright, make some room for me-“ he starts in time with Steven’s “Wanna be the extra chicken fillet in this burrito?” and they both pause abruptly and break out into chuckling, Steven holding out a blanketed arm for Andrew to scoot into. They sidle closer to each other and Steven drapes the blanket over him, Andrew grabbing onto it from his side and closing it more firmly around them both.

They sit there for a while without saying anything, or moving, them and the whole world – even the blinking lights of the city pause for them - until Steven rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew says nothing, the position feeling natural to them both, and he grabs the mug from Steven’s hand to steal a sip or two. Their fingers brush and Steven hums as he smiles, eyes closed, inhaling every hint of citrus and fruit clinging onto Andrew’s skin. His head now rested in the crook of Andrew’s neck, he notices how warm his skin is, unbelievably so, and feels sleep only now start to tug at him. The persistent lull of New York and Andrew’s breathing and the way he gulps as he drinks Steven’s tea feels so much like home, like a routine he can live with, and Steven finds himself steadily slipping into that state between consciousness and dreaming.

He briefly wonders what it would feel like to tilt his head just _so_ and suck a dainty bruise into Andrew’s neck. His skin probably tastes like salted caramel-

His eyes fly open. What the _fuck_. What the fuck, what the fuck, _what the fuck_. This is okay, this is all fine, he’s just tired and confused and Andrew is warm. That’s all. Andrew has been holding the mug to his lips for an alarming amount of seconds, his own breath hitched in his throat as he becomes very aware of the way Steven is exhaling right into the junction where neck and shoulder meet.

“We should, uhm –“ Andrew has to clear his throat, his voice far lower than it was a minute ago. “We should get to sleep.” Yes, yes. Sleep, that’s exactly what they need.

Steven, regretfully, allows himself to humour his thoughts of climbing into Andrew’s lap for a split second before sitting up abruptly. _Fuck, that’s not good_. He’s tired, and Andrew is warm. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Yeah, yes. We have... a whole day tomorrow. Also-“ he trails off and Andrew is forced to look at him, eyebrows drawn tight in the beginnings of worry. “-you drank all of my tea,” he can’t resist the playful whine at the end, pouting at Andrew, hoping to dissolve whatever tension had formed between them. Andrew untenses finally and chuckles.

“You watched me take it from your hands and did absolutely nothing, so it’s not theft,”

Steven’s entire chest warms at this, but he ignores it and shoves at Andrew lightly, standing up. He holds out a hand to Andrew.

“You’re full of excuses, now come on, let’s go to bed.”

Something in Andrew’s chest tugs at him at Steven’s words, and he doesn’t quite know why. He doesn’t let himself bask in the illusion that ‘bed’means ‘their bed’ and that they somehow go there together. He doesn’t even think about it. He lets Steven help him up and tries not to let his hand linger for too long.

The conditioned air of the room hits them with warmth that spreads relief through to their bones, and Steven goes to leave his mug in the sink of the small in-room kitchen, leaving Andrew with his blanket and his thoughts. Andrew walks to his bed like he’s treading through sludge, the sudden change in climate and mood making him all too aware of his exhaustion, and he carelessly flops onto his bed, wrapping himself tighter into the blanket that isn’t his. He notices faintly that it smells a bit like spring , a bit like spice, and entirely of Steven.

It’s not even a minute before Steven is over his own bed, noticing the severe lack of blankets, but Andrew is well on his way to unconsciousness. Steven can’t help but smile fondly, mind foggy with drowsiness, and he drags himself to Andrew and tries to tug his blanket free.

“Come on, Andrew, you’ve got my blanket –“ he whispers blearily, biting back a yawn as he tries, weakly and in vain, to release one of the blankets from Andrew. Andrew just groans back in tired incoherency, which only makes Steven’s resolve stronger, his grip tighter. Andrew twists abruptly to his side, tugging Steven along, who topples on top of him with little grace.

Steven buries his face into Andrew’s hair, finally, comforted by the scent of coconut and Andrew, and he moans unintelligibly, pulling uselessly at his blanket. It’s only then that Andrew blinks his eyes open, and shifts minutely to slot Steven against him, pulling the blanket to account for them both. It’s a few moments where only their breaths can be heard in the stillness of the room, and nothing else.

“Andrew,” Steven says and it sounds suspiciously like a warning. Andrew makes a gruff noise and tugs Steven closer. “Andrew what are you doing.” it’s not phrased like a question. Andrew’s nose finds its way into Steven’s neck, and Steven remembers with painful clarity how he’d been in that position not too long ago, and the thoughts that he’d had and he wishes he weren’t fit so snugly against Andrew right now. He thinks Andrew might not have heard him, or is outright ignoring him, before Andrew deigns to speak.

“If I give you your blanket back,” he pauses, shifts closer to Steven. Steven bites his lip. “-I have to move... a lot - to get under _my_ blanket, and that would be- it’d be tragic. I don’t want to do that. Everyone wins, like this.”

Steven wonders if there’d even be a point in his saying that no, not everyone wins, for example he is very much not winning right now. But he looks at Andrew’s face framed in the vague light coming from outside, and he takes note of the way he’s breathing, and everything is warm, and he’s tired, and fuck it if this isn’t the sweetest emotion he’s ever felt. All stomach flutters and quiet joy and warm cheeks, and Steven hugs himself to Andrew, settling in the heat. He leans his forehead momentarily on Andrew’s chest and smiles, whispering faintly; “You suck a whole lot.” but he doesn’t mean it. Andrew’s chest shakes with quiet laughter. Andrew’s his friend, and this is nice. It’s _really_ nice. Maybe he’s winning a little bit.

“I do, but you somehow see past that.” And his breath is hot on Steven’s ear and he feels like someone set him on fire with a million different matches and he bumps his head against Andrew’s solid chest, feels Andrew’s arms tighten around him. Steven reminds himself to fuck off big time in the morning for making this very poor decision, but for now he hums into Andrew’s shirt, content.

“Of course I do, because you’re my best friend,” Steven says. He mumbles something else that Andrew thinks sounds a lot like ‘i love you’ but Andrew knows better.

Steven’s falling asleep with a smile when he thinks he feels a kiss planted in his hair. The thought shakes itself free from his mind, because _that’s impossible, Andrew wouldn’t_.

 

They wake up with the light of the sun, legs tangled together and Steven’s hand fisted tightly in Andrew’s shirt, bunching it up near his abdomen, his own shirt riding up enough so that there’s skin near their hips that’s _touching_ – bare skin. Steven jumps away as soon as he wakes, as if he’s been burnt, and he’d swear Andrew almost tightens his grip around him and pulls him back in before letting him loose, but he knows better too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neither of them know anything at all, stupid boys


End file.
